


The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

by ThePoppyPress



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Batman is a comic in Marvel, Batsons are GAY for Peter Parker, Because they do it for free, But like not really sugar daddy, Crossover: DC & Marvel, Everyone in Marvel is Panicking, F/F, F/M, Gen, Good Parent May Parker, He is also smol, Like really smol, M/M, Mafia Batfamily (DCU), Mob Boss Bruce Wayne, Mob Boss Damian Wayne, Mob Boss Dick Grayson, Mob Boss Jason Todd, Mob Boss Tim Drake, Multi, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker and the Batfam, Peter Parker basically dates all the Batsons, Peter Parker doesn't exist until he does in the DC universe, Peter Parker is a Mess, Spider Man is NOT a comic in DC, Sugar Daddy Bruce Wayne, Sugar Daddy Damian Wayne, Sugar Daddy Dick Grayson, Sugar Daddy Jason Todd, Sugar Daddy Tim Drake, Tags Evolving, The Wayne Boys don't come in until the second chapter though!, They REALLY like Peter, They control the bad so they can do some good with it, They're doing bad to do good, Tony Stark is a mess, Tony stark is trying, dark Batfamily, good parent Bruce Wayne, if you get what I mean, poor baby, possible sexual content, you'll understand once you read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePoppyPress/pseuds/ThePoppyPress
Summary: Peter Parker was happy with his life. He was in college and acing his classes, he had a future at Stark Industries, he and Mr. Stark were getting closer, and Spider Man was officially in the Avengers Initiative. Everything was good.Then Parker Luck had to fuck it all up.Again.Or, where Peter falls into another world where Batman runs the mob, he gains four sugar daddies, and is best friends with a clown's girlfriend.He really needs a break.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, May Parker/Happy Hogan, Michelle Jones/Shuri, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Peter Parker & The Avengers, Peter Parker & The Bat Family, Peter Parker & The DC Universe, Peter Parker & The Marvel Universe, Peter Parker/Damian Wayne, Peter Parker/Dick Grayson, Peter Parker/Jason Todd, Peter Parker/Tim Drake, The DC Universe & The Marvel Universe, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 73
Kudos: 278





	1. Chapter 1

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford. 

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak. 

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter. 

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well. 

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did. 

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now. 

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly. 

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned. 

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here. 

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them. 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking. 

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it. 

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her. 

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands. 

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?” 

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again. 

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.” 

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted. 

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious. 

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head. 

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick. 

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!” 

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed. 

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’ 

\-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months. 

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower. 

It was nice. 

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise. 

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose. 

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him. 

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’ 

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room. 

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too. 

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second. 

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck. 

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air. 

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it. 

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her. 

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice. 

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Any ringing in the ears?” 

“No.” 

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?” 

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.” 

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?” 

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment. 

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright. 

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face. 

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance. 

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand. 

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks. 

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home. 

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.” 

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname. 

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face. 

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense. 

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts. 

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed. 

“Time to head to work,” he muttered. 

\-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped. 

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far. 

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise. 

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons. 

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering, 

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie. 

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over. 

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him.   
“Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly. 

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret. 

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared. 

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender. 

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes. 

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice. 

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again. 

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before. 

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation. 

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else. 

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest. 

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.” 

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over. 

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else. 

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!” 

\-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go. 

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely. 

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes. 

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged. 

“Whatever you say, Harls.” 

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily. 

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed. 

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face. 

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word. 

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary. 

“Hey Slade.” 

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting. 

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed. 

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused. 

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up. 

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them. 

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up. 

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth. 

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump. 

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into. 

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this. 

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly. 

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said, 

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction. 

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed. 

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend. 

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade shrugged. 
> 
> “You never know, sweetheart.” A voice spoke behind Slade, lilting and teasing. 
> 
> “Aww Slade. You’ve replaced me already?” Both men looked at the intruder, a very handsome man with tanner skin than Peter’s (though that’s not saying much. Peter was pretty pale), striking blue eyes and a wide, pretty smile. Peter supposes he should be falling for him or at least be flustered, but he can’t bring himself to be with his Spidey Sense starting to sound like a banging drum at the arrival of this man.

Dick raised a suspicious eyebrow at the two women in front of him. 

“So,” he started slowly, “you want to kill this man,” he pointed to the man chained to a pole, squirming with fear, “because he slapped someone? Like slapped in the face?” Barbara rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, Boy Wonder. Do keep up.” Dick’s eye twitched imperceptibly. Despite her being one of the only people who could sass a Wayne and get away with it, that didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off sometimes. 

“Okay, fine. Why don’t I ask a better question. Why is my bastard of an ex here?” Three pairs of eyes slid over to where Deathstroke, in full uniform, lounged on a lone wooden crate. The man’s white eyebrow raised, his eyes full of amusement. 

“That hurts, little bird. Here I thought we would be able to let by gones be by gones.” Dick grit his teeth. 

“Keep that up, Slade and I’ll send Damian after you,” the dark haired man snarled, a sneer twisting his handsome features, “he’d be happy to get rid of you after last time.” This only made Slade laugh. 

“The baby Wayne can try all he wants. He won’t be able to do anything.” 

“He’s not so much of a baby anymore. He’s almost as tall as you with much more on his body count than you’ve ever had.” Dick looked up at the larger male’s 6’5 form, knowing that Damian was only, at most, an inch shorter. Of the many traits he had taken after his father, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Ibn al Xu’ffasch, at the age of 19, far surpassed Bruce in height, now towering over his father at his full height of 6 '4, and matched him in the bulk department. Slade scoffed at the man. 

“That doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to take me away from this.” At this, Dick glanced at the man with renewed interest and back at Slade with suspicion. 

“Why the hell are you so interested in this, Slade? Working with people isn’t exactly your style and Barbara tells me you’re even doing this pro bono,” a bloodthirsty grin overtook Dick’s face, “whoever this is must be real special.” A threat resided in Dick’s voice, something that stiffened the other three people in the room. Before Slade could speak, Barbara cut in. 

“Dick,” she started, and while he didn’t turn towards her, she knew he was listening. “It’s not just him. It’s us too.” She gestured to Stephanie and herself, Stephanie nodding to convince Dick it was really what they all wanted. Because, it genuinely was what they had wanted. The fact that both his unofficial sisters wanted this too made him falter a bit. Dick stared at the blonde and the redhead before turning back to glare at the man chained to the pole. He visibly paled and scrambled backwards, despite his back resting against the cool metal. A slight smile at the man’s obvious fear slipped over Dick’s face before it disappeared and he sighed. 

“Fine,” he said, and his eyes darkened. Everyone else in the room straightened. 

While he would deny it fervently, Slade felt a small shiver make its way down his back as he eyed his ex in arousal. He particularly loved it when he used to do that. Dick grinned again, teeth showing; a pretty smile. Dangerous. “But only if I get to watch.” 

\-----

“I wonder what’s happened to Mr. Stanley.” Peter didn’t have to see Stephanie stiffen. He heard her. Pretending as if he didn’t, he continued, “I hope he’s okay.” Stephanie coughed into her sleeve and he looked over at her in concern. How much of it was an act and how much of it was genuine worry, he didn’t know. Peter handed the blonde a napkin, who took it with a nod of thanks. 

“Why would you want to know if he’s okay? He slapped you just last week!” Peter shrugged, uncaring of the odd look his now friend was sending him. Barbara apparently had some business to take care of so Stephanie came in alone. Harley was busy as well, running after her boyfriend. Peter’s lips twitched into a frown at the thought of Harley being hurt. Again.  


Stephanie, who noticed his slight frown, concluded the wrong thing. 

“Pete, you’re too good for this world.” Peter averted his eyes away from her, a sad look crossing his face. He remembers all the people he couldn’t save in his own world. The people he killed because he wasn’t old enough, experienced enough, prepared enough, good enough. Of all the things he was, good was not one of them. 

“I’m really not, Steph. I’m really not.” Ignoring the imploring look his blonde friend sent his way, he said nothing and looked away. There was nothing to say anyway. 

Steph left not long after that, saying that she had somewhere she needed to be. It had been a week and he had still not seen Mr. Stanley since he had slapped him. There wasn’t any doubt in Peter’s brain that Slade, Steph and possibly Barbara had been responsible for his disappearance. They must’ve been meticulous too, since no news report of a missing man has shown up at all. A shiver of both fear and warmth crept up Peter’s back at length they went to. He oddly felt scared yet safe at the same time, even though he still had his powers. 

‘And the suit,’ his mind supplied. Peter glanced down at his wrist where the watch Mr. Stark had gifted him lay, wrapped around his wrist. He had come up with the idea not long after his nanobot suit came to fruition. 

While it looked like a regular touch screen watch, it held all the nanobots needed to pull together his suit inside, even becoming a set of web slingers itself once the suit was deployed. There were two buttons side by side on the side of the watch, one being to turn the watch on and off and the other to activate the suit. Mr. Stark had instructed him to pull the second button out, listen for the clicking sound and watch for the screen of the watch to pop upwards before pushing down on the screen, which would deploy the suit. Peter had not taken out the suit since his arrival into this world. It was nice to know he had it in case of emergencies, however. 

Barely two hours later, Peter was exhausted and just wanting to get back to the shelter so he could sleep. After three fights (which was three fights too many to break up) and demanding customers, even in broad daylight, he only wanted to be alone. Well, as alone as he could get. He threw the towel over his shoulder down onto the wood of the bar and stretching his arms upwards, his back cracking deliciously as he moaned in relief. 

‘Thank God, my back was killing me,’ he thought as he continued to stretch his stiff muscles. Quiet footsteps lumbered towards his side of the bar, their heaviness and sound familiar enough to Peter for him to not open his eyes and realize who it was. Another little crack came from his spine and Peter moaned quietly. A huff of laughter sounded in front of him. 

“Careful, sweetheart. People might get the wrong idea.” Peter cracked one eye open at Slade, letting his arms fall back down to his sides and levelling the mercenary with a deadpan stare, silently noting the quick and quiet steps that were approaching the two. 

“The wrong idea about what, Slade? Stretching?” Slade’s one eye roved over Peter’s small frame hungrily, and while Peter did feel a bit endangered, he also felt fond. After a few days of conversation with Deathstroke, his Spidey Sense had calmed down significantly and Peter knew that Slade would never do whatever Peter didn’t want him to do. Slade shrugged. 

“You never know, sweetheart.” A voice spoke behind Slade, lilting and teasing. 

“Aww Slade. You’ve replaced me already?” Both men looked at the intruder, a very handsome man with tanner skin than Peter’s (though that’s not saying much. Peter was pretty pale), striking blue eyes and a wide, pretty smile. Peter supposes he should be falling for him or at least be flustered, but he can’t bring himself to be with his Spidey Sense starting to sound like a banging drum at the arrival of this man. 

The smile seems to melt the people around them, mostly women and even some men, but Peter’s seen it a hundred times before. It was similar to Mr. Stark’s fake smiles at press events. The first he had been to was his inauguration into the Avengers and while he was convinced at first, Peter started seeing the smile’s ingenuousness more and more as he attended other press conferences and parties. Looking at this man’s smile was like a mirror image, leaving Peter more than convinced of some sort of ulterior motive. 

“Little bird,” Slade murmured, eyes suspiciously downcast. Peter watched as the man’s smile became sharp for a fraction of a second before it was gone. If Peter hadn’t seen it with his senses, he would’ve thought it to be a trick of the light or something. The man’s striking eyes swiveled over to Peter and the curly brown haired boy had to stop himself from tensing up at the intensity of the gaze. He couldn’t help but feel like he was now a sort of lab rat to this man. His gaze held interest but it was the same kind of interest that one would give an ant on the street.

“Hello,” he greeted politely, “can I get you started with something?” The sharpness was there again and gone again before Peter could even blink. 

“Why, yes you can,” he purred, dark hair falling into his face attractively as he sat down next to Slade. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed that Slade tensed the tiniest bit. The man spoke again, getting Peter to focus on him again, “you can start by telling me your name, gorgeous.” Peter was a bit flustered at the nickname, though he tried not to give any outward indication that he was affected. 

‘Seriously, what is up with people and giving me nicknames!’ Peter pointed at the name tag pinned to his shirt and watched as the man raised an eyebrow.  
“I meant tell me, gorgeous. Verbally.” Peter stared at him. 

“Sir, I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, but you can read right?” A quiet snort came from Slade but both Peter and the man ignored him. 

“Of course I can read, but I want you to tell me your name.” Peter searched this man’s face, his intentions unclear. It was obvious he had ulterior motives but what were they? Finally, he answered. 

“Peter. Peter Parker.” He grinned like the cat who got the cream. He held his hand out which Peter took hesitantly, letting the man’s much larger hand engulf his own, noticing that despite the strength he obviously carried, he kept his grip surprisingly gentle. 

‘Manipulative,’ his mind whispered, ‘careful.’ 

“Richard Grayson. But you can call me Dick.” Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise and a light giggle left his lips, shocking not only himself but Slade as well. It was interesting but he latched onto the name. 

“Okay, Dick,” he put emphasis on the name, watching for any reaction that would accompany his subtle insult. There was none. “What can I get you?” 

“Virgin mojito with ice. Thanks.” As Peter worked on making the drink for Dick, he kept a super sense ear towards their conversation. 

“What are you doing here, little bird?” He heard Slade whisper. 

“Seeing what all the fuss was about.” When he was done, Peter gave the glass to Dick who turned his attention towards the superhero-turned-bartender. 

“So,” Dick started as Peter wiped down some wet glasses, “where do you live?” Peter glanced up and saw that Dick was leaning closer towards him, eyes sparking in interest. 

“Why?” 

“So I can take you on a date.” Peter barely stopped himself from scoffing. 

“I just met you.” Dick nodded, his face portraying the question, ‘so?’ “So, I’m not going to tell you where I live.” The dark haired man shifted to one side, Peter’s eyes following him. 

“You’re saying you don’t trust me?” The sharp grin was back, only this time it was on full display. ‘People obviously can’t tell the difference between pretty and danger,’ Peter thought as he watched more and  
more people start paying attention to the ridiculously attractive man sitting at the bar. 

“Of course not,” he answered simply, his eyes straying to Slade for a quick moment. Dick’s eyes were analyzing and somehow, Peter felt like he knew more about Peter than Peter did himself. Even then, Peter refused to be daunted. ‘It’s not how Mr. Stark would be.’ Dick, noticing that Peter looked at Slade, suddenly looked like Christmas had come early. 

“You know,” he purred, “Slade here isn’t exactly someone you should trust either.” 

“How do you know I trust him?” 

“You call him by his first name. Although common, he doesn’t enjoy just anyone calling him that.” Peter recalled the moment when Dick had slid into their conversation unannounced. 

“If that’s the case, then you must be close to him too.” Surprisingly, Dick was startled for a quick second before he started rolling with the punches. It made Peter proud in a way. He gets the vibe that this man doesn’t get surprised easily. 

“Maybe once upon a time. But still.” Peter sighed. 

“Why shouldn't I trust him?” Dick leaned forward, his hand beckoning Peter to as well, which he did reluctantly. Slade tensed a bit more next to Dick. 

“He’s a mercenary for hire.” It was whispered as if it was a great secret. Peter didn’t react. At all. 

“Yeah, I know.” A moment passed as Slade’s shoulders slumped and Dick tilted his head in curiosity. “Besides, he’s never been anything but transparent about his job, even if he didn’t tell me. If there’s anyone I shouldn’t trust, Mr. Grayson,” Dick’s eyebrows raised to his hairline at the formality, “it would be you. You may be able to charm everyone else here but I’m not fooled. Your pretty smile and flowery words are fake enough for me to see through.” Dick was about to reply but a sharp rap on the door to the interior of the bar caught their attention. 

“You’re off, Parker,” his manager rasped, clearly still hungover. He turned back to the two men sitting in front of him. 

“Well, I’ll see you later Slade.” The older man nodded. 

“See you, sweetheart.” Peter flashed a blinding smile towards him, making sure to leave Dick out of it. Said man was aware and huffed a laugh at Peter’s antics. 

“What about me?” He pointed to himself. Peter shot him a deadpan look. 

“I hope to never see you again.” With that, he walked off and out of the bar, hearing quiet chuckling but not quite noticing the interested looks from the man that would soon become one of the many thorns in his side. Fucking Parker Luck. 

\-----

Peter’s eye twitched as Dick sat down beside him, for once not alone. Babs followed behind him. It seemed that today it was Steph who was missing. It was barely even a week after their first meeting at the bar and he already couldn’t stand the sight of the other man. The fact that he kept appearing at all ofPeter’s shifts didn’t help. Dick smiled that pretty smile that Peter was sure tricked so many other people into selling their soul. 

“Peter! What a coincidence!” A discreet glance at the red head behind Dick told Peter that this meeting was anything but a coincidence. The brown eyed boy didn’t answer, causing the darker haired man to pout. Instead, Peter met Barbara’s eyes and waved. 

“How’re you, Babs?” Barbara’s soft smile lessened his irritation slightly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m good, Peter. Thanks for asking.” Peter nodded and went back to checking his phone, his break almost over. He’d be damned if he let Dick Grayson take up all his time. Ignoring the heat that dominated the side of his face, he sent a text to Harley. 

To Harley:  
Are you going to be meeting me at the club today? 

It wasn’t even a minute later that Harley texted back. 

To Puppy:  
I can’t today, puppy. Mr. J has a job and wants me to help!  
Wish me luck! <3

Peter sighed, causing Dick to not-so-subtly turn to him in curiosity. 

To Harley:  
Okay. Good luck.  
Stay safe. 

Peter logged out of the app and checked his bank account, deflating at the meager number. ‘Only $329.53. How am I ever going to get out of the shelter?’ He needed so much food on a daily basis that he barely had much money left over. Momentarily distracted, Peter left his phone screen open for anyone to see, even the annoying man sitting next to him. Dick whistled. 

“That’s a low number.” Peter shot him an irritated glance. 

“Don’t you have anything else to do, other than stalking me?” Dick pretended to think about it for a moment, before shaking his head, his blue eyes filled with mirth. 

“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.” The brown haired boy clenched his hand, balling it into a fist. His eye twitched again. Taking a visible breath, Peter walked behind the bar, avoiding looking at the handsome man. 

‘Just another hour, Parker,’ he thinks, though his rising annoyance made him want to flee, ‘just another hour, and you’ll be fine.’ 

\-----

After an hour of Dick blatantly staring at him (and no one, not even the security guards, questioned it. He thought it was odd), Peter was finally free to go. Babs had left within the first fifteen minutes, saying she had some late night errands to run. He practically flew into the back room to change into the clothes he wore before getting into uniform, and made it outside the club in record time, avoiding Dick when he surged up from his seat as Peter briskly walked past. 

The cool air hit him, causing him to shiver and clutched his hoodie. He scolded himself for not believing the forecast this morning. Gritting his teeth, he started walking in the direction of the shelter, purposefully starting on a light jog as he heard heavier set footsteps behind him. 

“Hey! Peter!” Dick called, following closely behind. Too close in Peter’s personal opinion, but before he could speed up, a strong hand grabbed his upper arm, and insane strength (at least, by normal human standards, but Peter was far from normal) halted his path. Because he had been running, physics decided to be a bitch (like it always was), and he crashed into Dick’s chest, the side of his head bouncing off the other man’s sternum. 

Using it to his advantage, Peter rammed his shoulder back into his chest, managing to hit Dick’s solar plexus. It should’ve been enough to get the taller man to let go, but instead, his grip tightened on Peter’s upper arm and before Peter knew it, he was being hoisted up, an arm cinching around his waist as he was bodily carried into a nearby alleyway. 

Now, Peter knew he was short and incredibly skinny, even after his transformation, but to hear it from someone else was a bit embarrassing in his books. Especially someone who had at least five inches on him, if not more. 

“Jesus, do you eat? You’re tiny.” Dick hissed as Peter’s free arm came down on his shoulder blades and arms, anywhere he could reach. Funnily enough, Peter was barely putting any of his real strength into the hits, but he knew it was enough to bruise Dick for the next couple weeks. “Hey- ow! Peter!” He yelled but Peter continued to hit him. “Peter! Stop!” 

“Let me go, Dick!” It seemed that Dick had had enough because next thing he knew, he was being pushed against a brick wall, the expanse of his chest pushed uncomfortably against the bricks by one if Dick’s long forearms and his upper arm had been let go in favor of capturing both of his wrists in one hand. Peter was about to stomp his foot onto Dick’s, probably breaking it, but Dick’s shout stopped him before he could. 

“Peter! Wait! I just wanted to take you home!” That caused Peter to pause, looking up at Dick. None of his senses told him that Dick was lying, so instead of attacking him, Peter asked through clenched teeth. 

“Why?” Peter glared up at Dick, and while he knew that his expression was about as threatening as a kitten and that he probably faced worse faces than Peter’s, he still watched in satisfaction as the taller actually seemed nervous now. His heartbeat also conveyed his anxiety. 

“Gotham’s dangerous at night. And I think I’ve known you long enough to be at least a little worried,” Dick’s demeanor suddenly shifted, a smirk lighting up his face, “Besides, I don’t want my new favorite friend to get killed. Then who will glare at me with such a cute face?” 

Now that Peter was closer to him, he could see why people seemed to fall for him wherever he went. Dick was very handsome, with a cheerful, if not cocky attitude. But Peter refused to be one of those people. 

“I don’t need an escort. I can take care of myself.” 

“You look like a breeze could knock you over.” Peter bristled.

“Are you saying that I need your help? ‘Cause I really don’t.” 

“You couldn’t get me to let you go. Do you think that anyone else on the street, who are mostly larger than you and me, wouldn’t be able to take you down?” Peter scoffed, and using some more of his super strength, he shoved Dick back, the other man stumbling all the way to the other side of the alleyway. Dick braced himself on the wall, looking at Peter with wide eyes. 

“Look, I appreciate your concern, Dick, but I can take care of myself. Whether or not you see it.” With that, he walked out of the alleyway and back towards the shelter. He heard no footsteps following him this time. 

\-----

Dick massaged his chest, still leaning against the wall that Peter had shoved him against. It was almost out of nowhere that his strength came and managed to successfully get Dick to let him go. He didn’t run after Peter, but he was resolved to escort Peter home safely. Afterall, if Steph and Babs liked him so much, Dick would probably like him too. 

‘Yeah, he did not disappoint.’ 

His first time meeting Peter was rather weird for Dick. His first impression was ‘cute.’ The guy had one of the largest sets of honey brown eyes he’d ever seen. His hair was curly and fluffy, and Dick was tempted to card a hand through the light brown locks to prove their softness. He was small, too, with a short stature and skinny arms. Basically, he looked defenseless and naive, if not adorably so. 

However, nearly everyone he met that wasn’t an assassin, mafioso, terrorist, whathaveyou, had fallen for his charms. Sometimes, even the assassin, mafioso, terrorist (etc.) had fallen for him. But Peter was different. The instant Peter spotted him next to Slade, his guard was put up quickly and he wasn’t fooled by charming smiles and pretty words. If that wasn’t enough to prove his oddity, the fact that he had said it straight to Dick’s face, even when Slade was right next to him, just made him more interesting to Dick. 

So sue him if he was slightly concerned about someone so defenseless looking roaming around at night. He was a son of the Wayne Mafioso branch, largest crime family on the East Coast, and Gotham and her inhabitants were his to help, protect, and punish if he so pleased. 

Pushing off the wall, Dick decided that this particular inhabitant was also his to help and protect, even if it was against his will. 

Dick suddenly realized that Peter must’ve been new to Gotham, seeing as he didn’t recognize him as Bruce Wayne’s first, adopted son, which only served to make Dick want to protect him from the streets even more. 

“Okay, it’s only been a couple minutes since he left. He can’t be that fast,” Dick muttered as he started on the path that Peter took to go home. A couple blocks up, Dick could see the heel of Peter’s shoe as he turned the street. Following quickly, he ran the couple blocks and turned the corner, as well, seeing Peter crossing a crosswalk to the other side of the street. He followed as well and all the way to a place that looked unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t an apartment building. Peter entered through the doors.

‘A homeless shelter?’ 

\-----

A couple days passed since the little scuffle with Dick and Peter was thankful that the man had at least some common sense to know when he wasn’t welcome. Peter hasn’t seen him at all the past few days and he couldn’t be happier. Harley noticed. 

“Whatcha so happy about, Pup?” She asked when they were hanging out at her apartment. Peter smiled beamingly at Harley who covered her eyes like she was looking into the sun. Both of them giggled. 

“Just happy. Hey, Harley?” 

“Hmm?” Harley played with the stick of the lollipop in her mouth, absently listening. 

“Do you know Slade personally?” The platinum blonde shook her head. 

“Nope. Why? You finally admitting yer’ feelin’s for him?” Peter huffed, giving his friend a knowing look. 

“No, I’m not into him. Like I said, too old. Not exactly my type.” Harley hummed but looked skeptical. “Anyway, even if you don’t know him personally, do you know who he works with?” His friend thought about it for a minute, swinging her legs back and forth in her seat at her kitchen table. 

“Some. Why?” 

“Just wondering if you knew someone named Dick Grayson?” Harley froze, a terrified look dawning on her face. Peter frowned and was about to ask her if she was alright but Harley suddenly surged forward and grabbed Peter by the arms, her grip tight. 

“Where did you hear that name?!” Peter, now more concerned, drew his eyebrows tight. 

“I met him the other day, when you weren’t at the bar. He came in alone and talked with Slade. He came in another day too, with Babs.” Harley’s eyes searched his own wildly, as if trying to see whether or not he was telling the truth. 

Her blue eyes widened when she saw that he was completely serious. Slowly, she let go of Peter’s arms and sat back down in her seat. She put her head into her hands, leaning over the counter for a minute, so silent that Peter started to become even more worried. Silence was uncharacteristic of Harley Quinn. 

“Okay,” she spoke up after a couple minutes, “I want you to promise me something, okay, Peter?” Honey brown eyes widened a bit. She used his real name. This was serious. 

“Anything, Harls.” 

“I want you to stay away from Dick Grayson and anyone he associates with.” Peter blinked. 

“What about Slade?” 

“Yup.” 

“And Babs? And Steph?” If Barbara Gordon knew Dick Grayson, then it was likely that Stephanie Brown knew him too. 

“Them too. We’re going to move. Mista J won’t mind. We’ll move closer to the border, nearer Canada and-” she continued muttering, more to herself than Peter, but Peter had enough. 

“Harley, we can’t move. I can’t move. I have two jobs and other commitments. I can’t just drop everything and move.” Harley gave him a desperate look. 

“But-” He cut her off. 

“But nothing, Harls. I know you’re worried. I knew he was dangerous the minute I met him. I can take care of myself. I’m much stronger than you think I am.” His friend didn’t move for a few moments, staring into his completely serious face and then deflated. 

“I just worry,” she murmured, apology evident in her tone. Peter walked around the kitchen counter to hug his friend, who embraced him just as tightly. 

“I know you do.” The hug lasted for a few more minutes, both basking in the comfort of the other before it was time for Peter to leave. He grabbed his coat off one of the small chairs at a round dinner table and said his goodbyes. 

“Be safe!” Harley called after him as he left her apartment. He waved back with assurances he would be careful. He chose to walk, despite the cold and damp weather, seeing as his bank account couldn’t suffer anymore in terms of small spendings. ‘Besides,’ he reasoned with himself, ‘I need some more exercise.’ 

It was about 30 minutes later that he finally reached the shelter, his coat somewhat damp. Entering the door, and feeling some warmth descend upon him made him want to groan in relief. However, after that feeling had passed, another, colder feeling lay itself upon him like a blanket. Something was wrong. Peter looked around, trying to see any potential dangers but there were none he could see or hear. 

Walking swiftly, Peter reached his cot, still eyeing his environment in suspicion. When he still found nothing out of the ordinary, he finally looked down on his cot to see a single white rose and an envelope sitting across his now neatly made cot. Someone had been there and messed with it. The thought made him shiver and with shaking hands he picked up the rose in one hand and the envelope in the other. He peeled the flap and opened it to see the contents. Two small, folded slips of paper sat inside. 

‘Sort of anticlimactic,’ Peter thought, his face filled with confusion. He pulled out the larger of the two slips of paper, and unfolded it. And then proceeded to drop everything in his hands. The rose, the envelope and the check for $100,000 fell quietly onto his cot. His wide eyes stared down at the pale piece of paper. 

‘What the fuck,’ he thought with shock. Then he remembered that there was another piece of paper in the envelope. Taking the envelope in hand, he tucked the check inside and pulled out the other slip. Unfolding it, he saw that it was a note. 

‘The first of many.  
-D.G.’ 

The envelope once again fell from his hands, and Peter felt another wave of emotion crash over him. However, this time, it wasn’t shock or fear. No, it was rage. 

‘Motherfucker.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Bruce Wayne must have a type,’ he thought with a bit of amusement.

“I can’t believe him!” Peter gritted out as he came at the punching bag with everything he had. Harley winced from the sidelines as she watched his knuckles become absolutely decimated every time his fists came down on the fabric of the bag. 

“Maybe lay off a little, Pup? Your hands are looking a little,” she paused, staring at his hands in fascination, “worse for wear.” Peter blinked and looked down at his knuckles, a little shocked to see them split, bloody and bruised. 

‘When did I start punching that hard?’ 

Harley clenched her teeth. She wasn’t unfamiliar with blood, far from it actually. With the amount of help Mister J needed on a weekly basis and her separate work, it was just a natural part of it. An occupational hazard, if you will. She didn’t enjoy spilling blood too much, unless someone really deserved it.

Then, she would really enjoy it, milk it for all it’s worth. However, on Peter, it was just wrong. It was a stark contrast with his pale skin and one she did not like. She wanted to scrub at it until it disappeared completely, so no trace of hurt or discomfort was showing on her friend. 

“Here,” she said, holding her hand out to him, and he took it without question, “let’s go and clean that up, huh? Hey Renee! We’re gonna use your first aid kit!” Harley called back to her long time friend, who grunted. 

“You know the people who work here?” His friend nodded and grinned. 

“We’re pretty tight. Ran together some years ago.” Peter nodded in understanding. 

“What did you guys do?” Harley’s smile dimmed a bit and quite noticeably to Peter. 

“Ya’know, Puppy,” Harley looked at him with a sad and pleading expression, “you shouldn’t ask questions about things you don’t want to know the answer to.” Peter paused for a second and nodded in return. He’s been there before, not that she would know. He had yet to tell her anything about the other world or about his powers. 

There wasn’t any magic here, no aliens, no Superman, no Wonder Woman, and no Batman. News reports didn’t say anything about superheroes and he hadn’t heard anything from Harley, the most accurate and trustworthy source of gossip he has. 

Nothing made sense to him here. The only times he had asked about Batman and his associates, he was shut down instantly by Harley, who seemed scared shitless. Even the Joker, while notorious on the streets, wasn't as big a deal as he should’ve been had this world been the canon one. 

In the back room, a small TV was playing live news as his alabaster haired friend pulled out a large box, a red cross adorning the side. Harley motioned for him to give his hands and he did without fuss, ignoring the small complaints that Harley gave. These wounds were nothing, after all. 

It seemed that there was a large event going on, men in suits in front of a building, two men in the middle shaking hands and smiling towards the cameras that were no doubt flashing into their faces. One man was significantly taller than the other, towering over most people there. A handsome smile built onto his face like it was natural, but to Peter, it didn’t feel right. He was very handsome, with dark blue eyes that shined due to camera lights, dark and slicked back hair, and sun kissed skin. He cut an imposing figure, broad and bulky; it was obvious he worked out. Peter narrowed his eyes. He looked familiar. 

“Looking at the news?” Harley asked and Peter hissed as she disinfected his knuckles. His friend murmured an apology, and he ignored the stinging pain, going back to observing the men on TV. 

“Yeah,” he replied, “who are they?” Harley glanced at the screen. 

“Wayne Enterprises probably expanded again. That must be the new partner and next to him is Brucie Wayne, CEO of WE.” It clicked as soon as she said Wayne Enterprises. Peter’s eyes widened. 

Looking closer, he didn’t know why he didn’t see it before. The chestnut haired boy stared at Bruce Wayne for a few moments longer. It felt weird to him that comic book characters were real here. ‘Really weird,’ he thought before flashes of fast movement near the edges of the screen caught his attention. His eyes widened further when he saw a very familiar face. He turned back to Harley, who was wrapping his hands. 

“Is Dick related to Bruce?” His friend paused in her actions, looking at him weirdly. 

“Uh, yeah?” She stated it like it was obvious. “He’s one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. Oldest of five.” 

“Who are the other four?” Harley cut the medical cloth, taping it securely before closing the first aid kit and walking up to the TV. She pointed to two men standing beside Dick, both taller than the handsome annoyance in Peter’s life. 

“This one,” she pointed to the tallest standing in the middle, “is Jason Todd. Real shady rumors goin’ around about him. Shady guy in general. Real bad anger problems. Smart guy though. And this one,” she pointed to the last man, “is Tim Drake, heir to the company. Extremely smart. Constantly tired looking. Jason hated him for a while before they seemed to make up. Last one’s Damian Wayne, Bruce’s only biological son and the littlest Wayne. He’s not here. Probably in school. There’s a daughter too. No one really knows about her, just that her name’s Cassandra Cain. She’s the second youngest and never really shows herself in public.” 

Peter nodded and observed the Wayne kids that were on the screen. Jason Todd was the tallest by far, probably even taller than his adoptive father. He looked a lot like Dick did with dark hair and blue eyes, though he had a hint of green to them. Weirdest thing was that he had a streak of white going through his bangs. His posture told Peter that he was bored, with his hands in his pockets and his back slightly slouched. Dick nudged him multiple times and seemed to be scolding him mildly, not that he listened. A cocky smirk appeared on his face. Peter shivered. ‘Just like his brother,’ he thought. Next, Peter observed Tim Drake, who too looked like Dick. 

‘Bruce Wayne must have a type,’ he thought with a bit of amusement. Long black was collected into a small ponytail at the base of his head, Peter observed as Tim turned his head to look in another direction. His skin was a lot paler than his brother’s and if Peter looked closely, he could see massive dark bags underneath his eyes. His posture was much better than Jason’s, back so straight that it almost looked natural. He smiled politely, though Peter could see that it wasn’t really genuine. Like his other family members, he was dressed immaculately in an expensive suit, but unlike the others, he was typing away at his phone, likely important business if the slight furrow in his brows indicated anything. 

“How interesting,” he muttered. Harley’s features scrunched up from the corner of his eye and Peter smiled softly at the cute expression. 

“I mean, if you say so, Pup.” Suddenly, his friend hissed. His head snapped towards her.

“What’s up?” 

“You’re about to be late for work.” Peter cursed. 

\-----

Peter panted lightly as he rushed into work. Harley had wanted to come with him but had something else to do. He could already guess what it was.

“Sorry I’m late!” He called. There was no reply so Peter headed into the bar and began to work, but not before noticing a large figure hunched over the counter. Peter smiled. “Hey Slade.” Slade looked up at Peter, a small twitch at the edge of his mouth. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted softly and looked around, the twitch becoming a smug smile as he watched people avoid his gaze. “Seems real quiet in here today.” Peter too looked around and noticed that, yes, there wasn’t a fight like usual. There wasn’t even an argument. Peter tilted his head in confusion, a soft furrow in his brows which unknowingly made his large brown eyes larger. 

“Weird,” he remarked. Slade glanced toward his favorite bartender, a chuckle rising in his throat. His sweetheart was just too cute. “Oh!” Peter exclaimed, causing the mercenary to look at him. “You know Dick Grayson personally right, Slade?” The older man’s one eye narrowed slightly, and he nodded, trying to ignore the small feeling of jealousy bubbling in his chest. “Can you give him something for me? If you’re going to see him soon?” Pushing the envious feeling aside, Slade nodded once more. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Peter smiled sweetly, and Slade was sure that if he wasn’t so emotionally constipated, he would be blushing. Peter pulled a neatly folded envelope from his back pocket and pushed it towards him. “What’s in it?” 

“You can see when Dick opens it. Also, tell me what his reaction is.” That piqued the mercenary’s interest. 

“You know, you can just mail it to him. Where he lives isn’t exactly private.” Peter bit his lip, contemplating while Slade’s attention seemed to be on the plump bottom lip that was captured between white teeth. He internally groaned. 

‘He’s gonna be the death of me.’ Peter finally seemed to decide something as he straightened up. 

“No. It has to come from you. It’ll be funnier that way.” Slade cocked a silver eyebrow. 

“Funnier?” Peter grinned, a note of mischievousness peeking from behind innocent, honey brown eyes. 

“You’ll see.” Slade stared at him for a second more before shrugging.

“Alright,” he said as he shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket. “I see him tonight anyway, so it works out.” At this, Peter’s grin widened. 

“Perfect.” 

\-----

Peter decided that a walk around the block was a good idea after work. It was quiet out, despite it being Gotham and even though he was tired, there was a restless energy inside him that he had to let out. He was smart enough to bring a thicker jacket this time, courtesy of Harley’s mothering ways. Peter also felt his thoughts quiet for once and he just continued to walk aimlessly, not noticing when he had taken a wrong turn. 

It was only 30 minutes later that he realized that the place he stopped in front of had a familiar illuminated sign. Large red letters read, ‘BP Gym.’ He noticed that it was also still open, though empty. Then, his Spidey Sense started humming and he felt a strange pull towards the gym. Peter narrowed his eyes and without another thought, entered the empty looking space. 

“Hello?” He called out cautiously, looking from one end of the room to the other, noting the security cameras in every corner. From behind the desk, he could see that the computers were still up and running so someone was here recently. 

He was about to go behind the desk when a shout reached his ears, in the direction that Harley had led him this morning to the boxing ring, countless other punching bags and more workout equipment. 

He rushed forward, following the grunts of struggle and burst into the open double doors to see two people inside the ring and a few spectators watching on the ground, his loud footsteps catching everyone’s attention. His pale face flushed as about five pairs of eyes stared at him intently. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I thought I heard a struggle so..” Amused grins lit some faces and others lost interest. Peter observed those in the room. Some were familiar faces he had seen that morning, probably regulars or owners of the establishment. There were only two faces he hadn’t seen in person this morning. 

Looking closer, Peter could see one face, grinning viciously with a split lip and a black eye, that looked very familiar to him. In the end, it was the white bangs that reminded him of who this was. ‘Jason Todd,’ he realized. Then, on one of the benches around the ring, sat his brother, Tim Drake, paying him no mind. Only one thought was running through his mind at that particular moment. 

‘What the hell are they doing here of all places?’ 

“Hey,” one of the people he had seen this morning said, “you were with Harley today right? You’re new?” 

“Uh, yeah! I just… ya’know, had some extra energy and uh,” he tried to puff up his shoulders like the intimidating man he was (he really wasn’t) but it ended up looking like a shrug more than anything, “aggression that I had to get out. So I was just hoping to use one of your bags?” The people still watching him huffed out some laughs and Peter felt his cheeks warm. 

One of the women, Renee, Peter recalled from this morning, gestured for him to follow her but before they could go anywhere, a gruff and deep voice called out to them. 

“Ya’know, instead of fighting the bags, why don’t you fight me?” Peter and Renee turned around to see Jason grinning down at them from the ring, the light bending around him to make him look more ominous than he already did. 

“C’mon, Jay,” a redheaded male said from beside Jason, “that’s just not fair. He looks like he’d die the moment ya touched him.” Peter frowned at the statement. Jason snorted. 

“He needs to learn how to protect himself. There are big, bad people out there.” He was just as obvious as he was mouthy. Peter caught on pretty quick and a streak of irritation flashed through him. There was no hesitation in Peter when Jason turned back to him and said, 

“Whatcha say, kid?” Peter stamped down the feeling of annoyance and he turned back around, hearing Renee following after him over the sound of Jason scoffing about him to the man next to him and the unmistakable feeling of Timothy Drake’s eyes on his back. 

“What the hell is my luck, running into the Wayne brothers?” He muttered to himself, taking care so that Renee could not hear. She went ahead of him, leading him to a small room, filling with hanging bags and weightlifting equipment. 

“Here,” she grunted and left before Peter could thank her. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it onto a bench, heading over to a random bag. His hands were still wrapped from this morning but he had no doubt that the wounds had already healed. He spent at least an hour like that, hitting the bag, trying to get Dick out of his head. 

‘Dick and his stupid money,’ were the only things running through his mind the entire time. It was around one in the morning when he stopped, his knuckles ruined like they had been that morning. He sat beside his jacket, his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor when the squeak of the door sounded. Heavy footfalls reached his ears and he looked up to see Jason Todd in all his glory, smirking at Peter. 

“Can I help you?” Behind him, Peter could see Tim Drake, typing away on his phone, a concentrated look on his face. Jason shrugged his shoulders. 

“Just wanted to see how you were holding up.” Peter levelled him with a look that said he didn’t believe him. Jason chuckled, his white bangs shaking with him. 

“Tell me, do you make it a habit to proposition fights with people who look weaker than you?” The taller male gave Peter a toothy smile.

“Only when they look like they need it.” Peter narrowed his eyes, though by the way Jason’s smile became wider, he wasn’t that intimidating. 

“Well I don’t need it, but thanks anyway.” Peter stood up and turned his back to Jason, grabbing his coat and making his way towards the door. He heard Jason following him but paid him no mind. Outside, in the hallway, he noticed a small water fountain and feeling thirsty, he headed over, passing Tim Drake without a glance. While he drank, Jason kept talking. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, kid! I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime! I’m the best fighter in Gotham!” From behind him, Peter heard a foreign voice snort, likely Tim. 

“Don’t let Damian hear you say that.” A scoff. 

“Demon Brat has nothing on me.” The rustle of clothes reached Peter’s ears, likely someone shrugging. He finished drinking, thirstier than he thought. ‘On that note, hungrier too. I wonder if Harley’s home yet.’ He bypassed the Wayne brothers, making his way to the front while taking note that they followed him as well, both eyes burning into the back of his neck, analyzing and observant. 

“Whadaya say kid?” Peter didn’t turn back to them. 

“No thanks,” he said, pushing open the door to face the chilly night, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He started making his way to Harley’s apartment and if his super hearing picked up a harsh bark of laughter from inside the gym, he could always say it was a mistake. 

\-----

Slade made his way through the crowded room, music and bass booming loudly around him. It was at this point that he wished he had brought his earplugs. Everything was way too loud. He supposed he could blame that on getting older. 

The mercenary passed two guards, disguised as bouncers, and both eyed him in distrust. He uttered the password and entered when they opened the door for him, not minding their gazes. A long hallway stretched, furnished elegantly and lit adequately. It definitely gave Slade the feeling of a nice hotel or casino resort. The mahogany door at the end of the hallway was his stop. He approached, knocked once on the dark wood, and entered. 

Inside, he found the blonde girl, Stephanie, lounging on a loveseat, her head resting on Damian Wayne’s lap. He was mildly surprised to find him only scowling and not completely overreacting, making a large fuss about someone other than Dick touching him. She laughed at something he said, his scowl deepening and Damian huffed, crossing his arms and settling back into the loveseat with his shoulders slightly slumped. 

Adjacent from them, at a large table with plush chairs, sat the red headed girl, Barbara Gordon and next to her sat, shockingly, Jim Gordon, her father and the Commissioner of Gotham PD. He sat with a smile on his face, and chuckled when Dick, who sat across from them, made an offending face at something. Barbara rolled her eyes. 

Finally, on a large armchair by a dim fire, sat Bruce Wayne, devil ruler of Gotham’s underground world and the angel of Gotham’s high society. No heads turned but he knew that they all knew that he was there. Slade approached Dick, aware that Damian turned his head to keep an eye on him. He reached into his pocket and threw the envelope his sweetheart had given him earlier. Dick looked down at the crumpled piece of mail before looking up at Slade. 

“What’s this, Slade?” He shrugged, nonchalantly sticking his pinky in his ear. 

“Something from sweetheart. Told me to give it to you today.” At the mention of ‘sweetheart,’ Dick’s head snapped up and he lunged for the letter, a smug grin eating at his lips. Inside, Dick found two other envelopes, one a light blue in color and the other a light yellow. The yellow one was addressed to Slade and the blue one to Dick. 

The dark haired male handed Slade his and viciously opened his own. He emptied the contents of it and found two slips of paper inside. He held each in one hand and inspected them. On one hand, he found the check that he had written Peter, slightly crumpled. On the other was a note that Peter had written him. 

‘Fuck you. I don’t need your charity.  
-P.P.’ 

Slade, peeking at the note over his shoulder, laughed, loud and booming. Dick scowled and threw the two slips of paper onto the table. 

“Shut up,” he muttered. The mercenary, however, continued to laugh, contentious of the fact that everyone was staring at him. Dick’s scowl further deepened before softening to curiousness at the unopened yellow envelope in Slade’s hands. “What’s in yours?” Slade laughed for a couple seconds more before he calmed down a bit and looked down at the yellow piece in his hands, his chest still shaking with a few more chuckles. 

Slade fingered it open, his thick fingers dipping inside to pull out a multitude of bills, totalling to over $800. He stared at them, confused for a second before realizing what it was. Slade chuckled some more. 

“What is it, Wilson?” Damian’s harsh voice came from the loveseat where both him and Stephanie had sat up in alertness. 

“Looks like my sweetheart doesn’t accept charity very well.” Jim and Damian cocked an eyebrow at this while Bruce looked on calmly. Barbara grabbed the two slips of paper on the table while Stephanie got up from her position, making her way over to the table. Barbara too laughed a bit after reading the contents of the note. Dick slumped into his chair further. Stephanie’s reaction was similar to Slade and Barbara’s, cheering at Peter’s boldness. 

“That’s my boy!” 

“Who would be your boy, Steph?” Bruce timber cut through the laughs, everyone instantly standing at attention at the head’s voice. A small smirk played at his lips at the effect he had on everyone, and he waited for an answer. One always came. 

“Just someone we all met. Dick here tried to woo him, but he, uh-” a snicker came out of Stephanie’s mouth, “rebuffed him.” Damian wandered over as well, scowling at the note. 

“How vulgar,” he remarked and for the first time, Slade really looked at the youngest Wayne. Dick wasn’t wrong when he had said the boy had grown. He was now a man, nearly as tall as him, and broad too. He was tan and just as brooding as his father. Jade green eyes cut through the soul of everyone it passed over and a handsome face ruined (or accentuated; either way you want to look at it) by the severe scowl he always seemed to be wearing. 

“Also!” Stephanie’s loud voice cut through Slade’s thoughts, her finger pointing to him in an accusatory manner. “Since when was he YOUR sweetheart?” Slade smirked. 

“Since I met him first.” The caused an outburst from both Stephanie and Dick, only for them to realize that they would have to fight each other and Deathstroke the Terminator for Peter. 

“Screw off Dickface! I saw him before you!” 

“Steph!” Dick whined. 

“And you! He’s my friend! You can’t-” a cough from Barbara interrupted her, and Stephanie continued, “He’s our friend! You can’t have him!” The mercenary grinned, his one eye scrunching up in smugness. 

“Oh blondie,” he drawled, “I already have him.” Slade laughed when she lunged forward, barely restrained by her family. While it tested his luck, it was always so fun to rile up the Bats, the aliases they were known as in the underworld. 

In the corner, Bruce observed the chaos with a raised eyebrow. 

Just who was this man and how did he get some of the most powerful people in Gotham City wrapped around his finger? Bruce’s blue eyes narrowed, his handsome face screwing up slightly. He relaxed himself, leaning back into the plush armchair and thought. 

‘How interesting.’ 

\-----

Peter knocked on Harley’s door, hopeful to find a couple of leftovers in her fridge. She never really minded when he came over to eat. Actually, she seemed to enjoy it when he barged in. Usually, she would bounce up to the door, already knowing who it was through the security cameras she hacked (while Peter didn’t condone this, he also knew she was a woman living alone, so precautions had to be taken) and usher him in excitedly. 

This time, however, was different. Harley still hadn’t opened the door. Peter frowned. Something was wrong. 

“Harley?” He said through the door. “It’s me! Peter! Can you let me in?” Some shuffling came from the other side of the door and Harley’s voice rang out.

“Hey Puppy!” It was a sad excuse of an excited tone. “Look, I’m really sick right now,” she coughed, quite fakely to his ears, “and I don’t want to get you sick. Maybe another time?” Her voice did sound quite hoarse though. Peter shook his head, knowing fully well that she could see him. Through the door, Peter could hear her heartbeat speed up. 

His frown deepened and he thought back carefully. She sounds hoarse and bad, she wouldn’t let him, her self-proclaimed light of her life in, and, most importantly, she was doing a job today. It clicked in Peter’s brain. His fists pounded on the door, harder than before. 

“Harley!” His voice was urgent and demanding. “Harley! Let me in right now!” A sniffle came from the other side of the door. 

“I can’t do that Pup! I don’t want to see you right now!” 

“Harley! Let me in or I will break down the door!” He knocked incessantly. “Please! Harley! I’m worried about you!” It seemed that he wore her down (not that it took much) and she opened the door. What Peter saw broke his heart completely. 

Harley stood in the doorway, pajamas on and showing all the bruises she had accumulated in one day. Large patches of blue, purple, red, and green bloomed all over her arms and legs, cuts with no bandages on them, and the shadow of a purple handprint left itself around her throat. Peter felt red hot rage start to bubble in his veins. He stomped inside the apartment, his hunger forgotten. 

“Who did this, Harley?” He seethed as he looked her over. He wouldn’t dare touch her. He knew what kind of feeling someone would have after that kind of experience and it was not to be touched. She stayed silent and Peter knew the answer. 

“That’s it,” he hissed, his hands clenched into fists so tight he knew that there would be indents from his fingernails. “You’re breaking up with him.” Harley shook her head rapidly, wincing when it aggravated some of her wounds. His rage boiled further. 

“You know I can’t, Pete,” she rasped, making it clear it was obviously painful to talk. “He’s my Mista J. He’s all I have. You know that.” Peter shook his head and Harley looked at him with wide eyes. 

“You’re so much more than him, Harls,” Peter’s eyes and demeanor softened as she looked away, “I wish you could see that. You have me too, you know? I’m always here for you.” There was a small pause. 

“It’s been too long. This is all I know.” 

“Wrong,” he said, “it was all you knew. I’m here and I’m telling you, because I care and I love you, that this is not healthy. I know you’re scared and you feel it’s been too long, but it’s not too late.” Harley sighed. 

“I don’t know, Pete.” 

“Yes you do, Harley. He’s using you and you’re letting him! This is abusive and it’ll kill you sooner than later.” Tears started spilling down Harley’s face, touching pale skin and likely stinging the small cuts on her face. 

Suddenly, she rushed forwards and embraced Peter, who instantly embraced her back, minding her injuries. They stood like that for a while, Harley sobbing into Peter’s neck and him softly shushing her. Finally, after her hiccups died down, she whispered, 

“He nearly killed me today.” Peter pulled back, his doe eyes looking into Harley’s blue ones. “There was a drug deal gone wrong and he wanted to kill a couple of the kids selling. They didn’t know any of the shit they were getting into. They were just kids!” Harley sobbed, her story momentarily paused. Peter was disgusted and mildly felt like he would throw up. “So I said no! And then he killed them right in front of me and then attacked me! My Mista J would never do that to me! He said he wouldn’t but he did! He did it, Pete!” 

She cried harder and Peter, while his rage and need for justice burned hotter than before, he was a friend first and foremost. He shushed her and held her longer. 

“I know it hurts. But you’re gonna break up with him, okay? You’re gonna put this behind you and you can move on. I’ll help you.” Harley said nothing for a few minutes. Then, she pulled herself out of his arms, rubbing at her swollen eyes and nodding. 

“Okay,” she whispered, “can you stay with me tonight?” Peter melted at the request. 

“Of course Harls. I’ll stay as long as you need. Just let me go get my stuff okay? I don’t want it to get stolen. Again.” Harley laughed. It was a small laugh but it was there. It was the most beautiful sound that he had heard all day. 

\-----

Peter entered the shelter and headed for his cot straight away. He had to get his stuff quickly and head back to Harley. She needed him more than ever. He stuffed all his belongings into his backpack, making sure nothing was missing. He didn’t want to have to come back to get something that would likely be stolen. Suddenly, his Spidey Sense rang out, alerting him of danger from behind. 

Peter slowly straightened and turned around. He came face to face with a neck connected to a head which connected to a face he did not want to see at the moment. 

“You!” He hissed out, irritated. Dick Grayson stood in his immaculateness, standing out in the whole room with his expensive suit and accessories and good looks. Dick smiled his megawatt smile, trying to make it less obvious that he was caging the cute boy in. Peter wasn't fooled for a second. 

“Hey gorgeous,” he greeted with a flirtatious tone, “miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I would like to say that if you or someone you know is suffering from abuse, please seek help! It is a horrible circumstance and so many people go through it. That's heartbreaking to me. Harley gets through the heart break pretty quickly; I know it takes so much longer than that, but in her (and my) defense, she has a Peter Puppy. Y'all should get yourselves a Peter. He'll save your and your grandma's souls. 
> 
> Second, I know it's a little shorter but it should suffice. Peter finally meets Jason and Tim in this chapter, albeit in a brief interaction. Not to worry, there will be more where that came from! Also, a lot of the main characters that will remain in the story have been introduced and there's more characters on the way! So stay tuned! 
> 
> Yours, 
> 
> The Poppy Press


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alfred,” he called. 
> 
> “Master Dick?”
> 
> “Remind me to call Kara when I get home and to look into apartment buildings close to the manor.” Alfred was silent for a moment before replying. 
> 
> “Of course, Master Dick.” They were silent the rest of the ride home. 
> 
> \-----
> 
> Sexual Content ahead! If you're not comfortable with that, please ignore it!

Peter’s eye twitched. 

“What do you think?” Dick, actually seeming a little nervous, gulped a bit. Peter almost smiled when he heard him, this being a big contrast to how he was when they first met. The cocky facade was down, probably due to Peter’s rejection of “help” from him.

‘Good,’ he thought with mild satisfaction before sighing. “What are you doing here Dick?” 

“Just wondering about my uh-” Dick scratched the back of his neck, “gift?” Peter looked at him stoically. 

“What about it?” 

“Well, why reject it?” Peter’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly. 

“It’s as I said, Dick,” he put special emphasis on his name, “I don’t need your fucking charity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my things.” Dick sputtered as the chestnut haired boy moved around him to organize his belongings. 

“You need it though. Why not take it?” Not looking up, Peter replied, 

“It’s the same thing with Slade. I can take care of myself.” Finished with putting his meager possessions together, he shouldered his backpack and made to move around Dick who percepted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look,” his voice became louder and a bit higher pitched, Peter’s annoyance at Dick rising exponentially. He was in the way of him getting to Harley, something Peter didn’t appreciate. The superpowered human took a breath. 

“I can work for myself and earn money. If you want to get into charity, I can refer you to other people and/or organizations who can much more appreciate the work you’re trying to do, but I do not take handouts. I will not and you can’t make me.” 

The handsome man’s face darkened at these words and Peter curled in on himself a bit, wary of the sudden dangerous aura that surrounded Dick, a far cry from earlier. It seemed that there were many sides to this man and Peter was more than hesitant to discover more. Dick, who noticed Peter flinching away, brought his features back to its pleasantness, aptly understanding that his interest was cautious and that he’d have to show more restraint. His eyes narrowed. 

“Even if I can’t make you accept it outright, I definitely have other methods.” Peter grit his teeth and glared up at the blue eyed man. 

‘Ugh,’ he thought as a phantom headache started flaring up, ‘this going nowhere.’ He might as well just leave. Peter readjusted his grip on his backpack and forcing his way past the hand on his shoulder, he walked around Dick and towards the exit of the shelter, ignoring the pouding footsteps running after him. Once he was outside, the footsteps slowed to a walk right next him. Peter peeked at Dick out of the corner of his eye and nearly groaned in frustration at the jovial expression on the handsome man’s face. 

“Is there something you need?” Dick kept his face forward, though Peter could tell that his smile widened. 

“Nothing at all. I’m just walking you home.” Dick turned his head to Peter, causing Peter to do the same. The grin was suddenly replaced by a smirk, and Peter got the creeping feeling of an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t be sure what it was yet. 

“Whatever,” he muttered, pissed off. He couldn’t do anything about it, however, since all he would spout was nonsense about having to protect Peter. They continued to walk in silence for the next couple of blocks before they passed an alleyway. Deep within the darkness of it, Peter’s sensitive hearing could pick up the nearly silent sound of a whimper. His head snapped to the alleyway and the need to help the being that uttered the pitiful whine grew. 

“What is it?” Dick asked, confused. Peter didn’t answer and made to head down the alleyway. Dick grabbed his arm in alarm. “What the hell are you doing?!” Peter shook off the hand and glared at Dick, putting a finger to his lips and silently shushing him. 

“Be quiet!” He whispered and went down the alley, Dick following with steadily rising anticipation, hyper aware of the multiple weapons secretly stashed on his person, in case something were to go wrong. Both their footfalls were quiet and the whimpering suddenly got louder. Peter reached for his phone and put it onto the flashlight setting, searching for the source of the sound. A blue tarp covered a large figure of something and Peter paused for a moment, his Spidey Sense strangely quiet, before something underneath the tarp moved. 

Quickly, the chestnut haired boy bent down and lifted the tarp, safely knowing there was nothing dangerous underneath. The tarp opened to reveal several buckets of cardboard and a small golden retriever puppy. It was on its stomach, shivering and looking up at Peter pitifully, brown eyes and golden fur wet. Peter’s heart broke and after handing his phone to Dick, who helpfully pointed the flashlight, he kneeled, reaching slowly for the puppy. It flinched and its whimpers became louder but it didn’t move away. 

‘Or it can’t move away,’ Peter thought as he spotted some blood matted fur on the puppy’s right paw. As gently as he could, he gathered the puppy in his arms, shushing it when it let out a loud cry. He unzipped his hoodie and placed the puppy within, holding an arm underneath to support it and closed his jacket in order to get some warmth into the poor thing. 

“Where’s the nearest vet?” He asked Dick, who paused to think for a moment. 

“There’s one about a couple of miles away. Why?” 

“I need to take care of it. Obviously.” Dick furrowed his eyebrows. 

“You’re keeping it?” 

“Of course.” Peter said it like it was supposed to be obvious. Dick stared for a moment before nodding and gesturing to him to follow. Peter nodded and they made their way out of the alley. He waited for Dick to lead the way before the dark haired man’s face lit up. He raised a finger and pulled out his own cell phone, Peter’s still in his other hand. 

“Hey, can you come and pick me up? I’m on-” Dick rattled off their current location. Peter raised his eyebrow when Dick hung up, a cheeky smile stretched on his face. 

“Who was that?” 

“You’ll see!” He said cheerfully. And he did. Not five minutes later, an expensive looking black car pulled up in front of them. Dick hurried before Peter and pulled the door open for him, causing Peter to blush. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, unaware of the satisfied smile on his companion’s face as he slid ungracefully into the warm car, careful of the puppy. Dick slid in after and gave another grin to an unimpressed looking (in Peter’s professional opinion) older man. 

“Thanks for picking us up Alfred! Was it a bad time?” Still unimpressed looking (still in Peter’s professional opinion), the older man shook his head. 

“Of course not, Master Dick. I am always available to help. May I inquire about your companions?” Peter stuck out the hand not supporting the puppy. 

“Hello, Mr. Alfred! I’m Peter, an acquaintance of Dick’s. And this,” he unzipped the hoodie to show the puppy resting, now sleeping, in Peter’s embrace, “is someone we just found. It’s nice to meet you.” Dick squawked. 

“Acquaintance?!” Alfred nodded, hardly fazed, and replied in his British accent, 

“And you as well, Master Peter, but please, call me Alfred. Now, I assume we are to go to the nearest vet?” 

“If you could be so kind?” Peter replied politely, glaring at Dick as he snickered which started to turn into full out laughing. Irritated, Peter elbowed him roughly, a satisfied feeling filling him as Dick clutched his side. The blue-eyed man leaned forward and clutched the back of the passenger seat. 

“Alfie!” He called out like he was drowning or in immense danger. “He elbowed me!” Peter rolled his eyes as Alfred replied, 

“It is not something undeserved, Master Dick,” in his kindest tone which, in Peter’s opinion, made it all that much funnier. Dick sputtered and Peter started to chuckle. 

“The betrayal!” He whined, scandalized. The next couple minutes were filled with Dick’s overdramatic tendencies. When they arrived at the still-open-but-nearly-closing vet, Alfred turned over the driver’s seat. 

“You are being much too dramatic, Master Dick.” 

“I AM THE DRAMA!” Dick cried (if you know, you know). Peter scoffed with amusement and kicked Dick in the knee. “What?!” 

“Are you going to get out? The vet’s gonna close if I don’t go now.” Dick sniffed and begrudgingly got out, holding the door for Peter again, who managed to not blush. 

“Can you stay Alfred? We’ll be as quick as we can.” Peter’s eyes widened. 

“Oh, that’s okay Dick. I can take care of this myself. You go ahead and head home.” He frantically tried to get him to go home, but apparently he didn’t want to. Dick shook his head. 

“I can’t do that, Peter. You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone at night, even if you are a guy.” Alfred peeked his head out of the car. 

“He is correct, Master Peter. It is especially dangerous amidst the darkness. So please allow us both to help and get you to safety.” Peter hesitated which allowed Dick to surge forward to grab the arm not supporting his precious cargo and gently guiding Peter forward into the building. 

“You said it’s gonna close if we didn’t hurry right? Let’s go!” Peter sputtered. 

“If I didn’t go! Not we!” He went ignored. 

“Wait for us, Alfred!” With that, Peter was unceremoniously pulled into the veterinary’s building. He stumbled, jostling the puppy, who woke with a whine. He righted himself and glared up at the man with him, who only grinned momentarily before going to the front desk and ringing the bell. A crash in the back caught their attention and a frazzled woman came to the front, a frown on her face. 

“Are you alright?” Peter asked in concern, joining Dick at the front. 

“Huh?” Her eyes caught both of them. “Uh, yeah!” A fake smile lit up her face and Peter’s Spidey Sense thrummed to life, though a bit lowly. Strange. Though not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him. “Anyway, what can I help you with?” Peter unzipped his jacket to show the whining puppy and the woman’s eyes softened. 

“I think it has a cut on their leg or paw.” The woman, her name tag reading Dr. Tasha, nodded. 

“I’ll see what I can do. This way.” She led them back and into an examination room. It was quick, as it turns out it was just a cut on the puppy’s paw. With some cleaning and bandaging of the cut and advising that they try to keep the puppy off their paw for a couple days, they were free to go. 

“Thank you Dr. Tasha!” Peter called as both he, Dick, and Peter’s new puppy made their way out of the building. Alfred was still waiting like Dick had instructed. Dick opened the door for him again but Peter shook his head. “I’ll just walk.” Dick groaned. 

“Petey, I don’t want to have this conversation again. Get into the car before I make you.” Peter’s features twisted but like he knew what was about to happen, Alfred rolled down the passenger seat window. 

“Master Peter, I have known and raised Master Dick since he was a boy. I promise you he is a gentleman. He will not let someone such as yourself, or anyone be on the streets if they are not equipped. Neither will I. Please, for your safety, the puppy’s safety and our peace of mind, do let us accompany you home.” It was the look that Alfred gave him that did him in. Begrudgingly, Peter entered the open door, the puppy clutched in his arms and Dick followed him in. “Thank you, Master Peter. Now, where do you live?” 

Peter listed off the address and sat back as the car started to move. A minute in, the puppy started whining again and gnawing at the bandage around its paw. 

“No,” Peter chided, gently prying the paw away from the puppy’s snout, “you can’t do that.” The puppy looked up at Peter, now more comfortable with him and tilted its head in question, its large eyes curious. Peter, playing along, tilted his head too and raised his eyebrow. 

“What?” It came forward on his lap and leaned its paws against Peter’s chest, raising its head towards his face. Peter stayed still and suddenly, a small, pink tongue licked his cheek, leaving little bits of slobber all over. The brown eyed boy laughed, which caused the puppy to become more excited. It started licking Peter all over and he laughed even more, gently pushing the puppy away and wiping away the slobber. “You are so cute!” Peter scratched along its ears and it barked adorably, tongue hanging out and tail wagging with vigor. “Yes you are! You are so cute!” It was as if everyone else in the car disappeared. 

Dick, on the other hand, watched the scene with growing interest and horror. Interest because it was interesting to watch Peter interact with something else. Horror because despite Alfred’s claims of him being a gentleman, Dick felt the rising want to grab Peter and smother him. This was just too cute for him. So, with a red face and embarrassment, Dick turned, angling his body away from Peter so the innocent boy would be able to see the “problem” with him. 

Peter heard the rustling of clothes and found Dick turning away from him. He frowned. 

“Dick? Are you okay?” Muttering answered his question. 

‘Weird,’ Peter scoffed internally. He turned back to the puppy, who he had found was a girl. ‘What to name her?’ He put it on a mental checklist. 

“Is he a weird, bad man?” The small bark of response made Peter giggle. On the other side of the car, Dick hid his face and in the front seat, Alfred gave a private, small smile. 

\-----

Tony groaned. 

“I’ve been staring at this screen for so long, even my coffee cup is sore.” 

“I don’t think cups can be sore, boss. Also, I think the term you’re looking for is ‘coffee mug.’” Tony growled playfully. 

“One more sassy word out of you, FRIDAY, and it’s reprogramming for you tonight!” 

“I apologize, boss,” FRIDAY replied, sounding not at all sorry, “I was just doing my job.” The genius muttered under his breath. He cursed  
the day he decided to make AI’s. Speaking of days. Tony blinked. 

“FRI, what day is it?” 

“If you’re asking about how long you’ve been awake, it has been about 72 hours, sir. Stephen will not be pleased.” 

“Shit!” He cursed. “Don’t tell him-” As if on cue, the doors to his lab slammed open and heavy footsteps approached him. He looked up at his husband of one year with a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Don’t tell me what, oh dear husband of mine?” Tony stood up suddenly, ignoring the rush of dizziness that washed over him and backed up, his spouse matching every foot. 

“Oh nothing, honey. Just that-” 

“That you’ve been ‘sciencing’ again and have been neglecting your health? Again?” Tony froze, his back reaching one of the walls of his lab, and scratched the back of his head. 

“Uhh. No?” Stephen hummed, blue eyes piercing down onto his husband’s. 

“Lying, are we?” Tony gulped, eyes searching around for any modes of escape. There were none. 

“No?” Blue eyes sharpened and Stephen gestured to Tony, who’s eyes widened when Capey (as Peter so aptly named it) lifted itself from Stephen’s shoulders and wrapped tightly around the billionaire as he gasped, floating behind Stephen as he led them out of the lab. He tried wriggling but no amount of struggling could get him free. 

“FRIDAY?” 

“Yes, Stephen?” 

“Close down the lab.” Tony looked down at Stephen in exasperation.

“Wait! No, FRIDAY-” 

“Of course.” Tony shouted all the way up to the bedroom, yelling across rooms and still struggling inside Capey. No one listened, of course. Stephen stopped in front of the master bedroom and opened the door, Capey and Tony floating through and softly rested on the bed, the billionaire still wiggling around. 

Stephen, on the other side of the room, shut the door and immediately shed his outer coat, placing it on an armchair. Tony watched, still struggling to get free, his eyes confused and tired. His husband loosened his tie, taking it off, before reaching down to unbutton his cufflinks, and rolling his sleeves up. He looked at the man on the bed for a moment before snapping his fingers. 

Capey released Tony and he sat up, about to get off the bed until Stephen snapped his fingers again and golden bands restricted his arms and legs, multiple glowing restraints latching his arms behind his back and his legs together, from his upper arms to his wrists and from his thighs to his ankles. Tony fell back onto the bed, landing uncomfortably on his inhibited limbs with a cry of alarm. His husband came forward to sit on the edge of the bed and with another snap of his fingers, Tony teleported. Onto his husband’s lap, face down. 

His face burned. 

“FRIDAY, turn on the recording camera.” 

“Yes.” The sound of mechanical whirring came and Tony knew that the camera was on. 

‘Shit,’ he thought before the belt around his waist was taken off and his pants and underpants were shoved off, the bands loosening to accommodate for his clothes falling down to the floor, leaving him just in a tattered T-shirt. The belt was thrown across the room, Tony flinching when it seemed to smack something. 

“Wait, Stephen-” He was interrupted once again when he yelped at the feeling of a smooth and steady hand coming down on his bare bottom, the hands of a man of medicine and now Sorcerer Supreme (an assholish name if you asked Tony). 

“Be quiet Anthony,” a rough, stern voice commanded. A golden band, seemingly thicker than those on his body came to rest at his neck and it seemed that no matter how much he tried, no noise could escape from his mouth. He looked up at his husband in horror, who smirked in response. “A new spell. Do you like it?” 

Tony shook his head and another slap came to his ass. He jolted. 

“It seems that the last punishment hasn’t made as much of an impression as I had hoped. We’ll have to try again. Oh, and,” Stephen paused and reached down to gently press against Tony’s bare cock, the billionaire moaning softly at the contact. It wasn’t long before he felt something constricting at the base. Tony’s eyes widened even more. “No coming until I allow you to. When I’m through, you’ll be begging. Won’t you, husband?” 

‘Again,’ he thought through cry after cry as Stephen’s hand came down repeatedly on his ass, the hand eventually turning into a paddle of some kind, ‘shit. FRIDAY is definitely getting reprogrammed.’ 

\------

“No. More. Neglecting. Your. Health. Do. You. Understand?” Each word that came out was punctuated by a harsh thrust into Tony’s upturned, presented, red, and bruised bottom, said man crying through the inhibitor around his throat, no sound coming through. The bands around his legs had long been wished away, though the restraints along his arms stayed where they were. 

Tony’s face was mushed into a pillow wet with tears and drool, occasionally turning to the side to breathe. 

It had been hours already, and while Stephen, being Sorcerer Supreme and knowing spells to increase stamina and strength, was not affected in the least, Tony had almost had enough. His cock was straining against the band at the base of it, sensitive and leaking everywhere, desperate for the release Tony’s body so craved.

Too bad Stephen had yet let him, though Tony had a suspicion that everything was going to end soon. Stephen grunted behind him, thrusts becoming sharper and Tony knew that he was about to come for the tenth time that night. 

“I said,” a few thrusts with increasing speed and strength, and the band around Tony’s throat disappeared, releasing his voice, “do you understand?” 

“Yes!” Tony cried through Stephen’s approving hum, and the blue-eyed man harshly brought the billionaire’s ass to meet his equally rough thrusting and pleasure, a familiar heat, a hot burn started to sear through Tony’s gut, wrenching tighter and tighter, the tightest it had been all night. Tony moaned loudly, crying for release. Stephen leaned forward, still bucking into his husband’s tight heat, and whispered into Tony’s ear. 

“Good. Now, come.” when Stephen’s hips stuttered, the restraint around his cock disappeared and Tony came. Stars exploded across his vision before a bright whiteness overtook the stars. 

“FUCK!” Tony screamed, body shivering at the explosion of pleasure, tingles shooting all over his body. It seemed to reach from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet, and his body convulsed. Stephen emptied himself into Tony and breathed heavily, staring down at the prostrated body of his husband, certain for sure that he finally got the message. Tony collapsed on the bed, eyes blurry with tears and off to sleep. Stephen chuckled. 

“You can turn it off now, FRIDAY. I think he learned his lesson.” 

“Yes.” Stephen stood up and went to grab all the things necessary for cleaning up. It was time for some well earned sleep. 

\-----

“Boss!” FRIDAY’s loud voice came over the built in speakers, jolting Tony and Stephen awake, the former groaning as he sat up too quickly. His entire body was sore, his ass even more so. Tony glared over at Stephen who raised an eyebrow, smug satisfaction showing on his handsome face. Tony huffed. 

“What is it, FRI?” 

“Peter’s gone missing!” Alarm and panic shot through both their systems. 

“WHAT?!” 

\----- 

“So this is where you live?” Peter paused in playing with Piper, his new Golden Retriever puppy, and looked at Dick who had long disappeared out his weird funk. 

“Well, where I’m staying.” Dick raised an eyebrow at the dinginess and gloom that seemed to hang over the apartment building. 

“Then who lives here?” 

“My friend.” Dick hummed. 

‘I wonder if this friend is willing to move apartment buildings,’ he thought with a devilish smirk. An idea was forming in his head and he knew just how he could get Peter to accept his favors. Peter opened the door and shouted a thank you to Alfred for driving him home. He hesitated, Dick staring at him. 

“I’ll see you later, Dick.” With that, he closed the door, a wiggling puppy in his arms and made his way into the building, knowing full well that it accepts pets. His face was extremely red. Dick chuckled and Alfred pulled the car out of the parking space and onto residential roads. 

“Alfred,” he called. 

“Master Dick?”

“Remind me to call Kara when I get home and to look into apartment buildings close to the manor.” Alfred was silent for a moment before replying. 

“Of course, Master Dick.” They were silent the rest of the ride home. 

\-----

“Harley? I’m back!” The door opened to reveal a tired Harley, who was likely asleep. “Sorry, did I wake you?” She shook her head. 

“No,” Harley yawned and rubbed her eyes, “I was waiting for you.”

“Well,” Peter said with a smile on his face, “I have a present for you.” His friend stood at attention and waited. From behind his back, Peter brought forward a calmer Piper, who started wagging her tail as soon as she saw Harley. Harley squealed. 

“OMG! Puppy got a puppy!” Peter huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah, I supposed I did,” Peter beamed, happy that there was at least some sort of normalcy to this night. 

“What’s its name?” Harley’s eyes were wide with joy, her baby blues sparkling, even through the pain that was evident. 

“Her name is Piper. She’s your new rescue and support.” Harley sniffled with what Peter was guessing was happy tears. 

“You mean, our new rescue and support. How did I ever get so lucky?” Peter smiled at his friend, genuinely enjoying their moment. 

“You deserve it.” 

\------

“So….” Steph trailed off, looking at Peter with puppy dog eyes, causing Peter to roll his own. He was back at work, all his stuff at Harley’s indefinitely at the moment. The Captain’s Bar was louder than usual, he noticed, even with Slade there, sitting right next to Steph and Babs. 

“So what, Steph?” He pointedly did not look at her, lightly scratching at a smudge on a glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steph stretch her arms over the wooden counter, a mischievous smile on her face. 

“Are you free when you’re done here?” Peter paused to think for a moment. When he was sure there was nothing else on his schedule, he said yes. Steph’s eyes lit up, Babs’ nodding along, even though she was on her phone. “Great! Wanna hang with us at our usual place?” 

Suddenly, Babs’ head snapped over to her, and the redhead pulled on the blonde’s arm to get her attention. “What? What’s the problem?”  


Whispering commenced and Peter decided to stay out of it. 

“Oh my God, just ask him.” Barbara groaned but typed on her phone, nonetheless. Steph continued to smile jovially. Finally, a couple minutes later, a notification appeared on Babs’ phone, obviously a confirmation if the way the blonde cheered was any evidence. 

“Yeah, we have a hang out if you want to come with, Pete. It’ll be fun.” Slade side-eyed the trio, keeping a careful gaze on Peter, who didn’t take long to nod and agree with a small smile. 

“Sure thing! Can I bring a friend though? She’s been going through a nasty break up and I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.” Steph and Babs shared a look and after a quick but silent conversation, both reluctantly agreed. 

“Well,” Slade started, “if you’re going, sweetheart, I’m definitely going too.” 

“I look forward to it, Slade!” The beaming grin on the cute boy’s face nearly made Slade blush. ‘Cute,’ he thought with an internal smile. 

“I can’t wait to let you meet some others! You already know Dick, but there’ll be some other people there too!” A chuckle escaped the brown eyed boy. 

“I can’t wait either.” 

About an hour later, Peter, who had shot a text to Harley saying to meet him in front of the Captain’s Bar, met Harley outside and they went on a little adventure to Steph’s and Babs’ ‘lair’ as they called it. They were given directions, Harley nervously clinging onto Peter’s arm, and finally arrived at a large, elegant (as elegant as you can get for a club) gothic looking building. There were already bouncers outside of the club, even though it was only about 7 in the evening. Peter and Harley approached, Harley shrinking behind Peter. 

“Uh,” Peter said nervously when they didn’t even react. 

“Invitation only, kid,” the bouncer said, looking down on him menacingly. Peter gulped. 

“Yeah, we were told to come here by Stephanie Brown? Do you happen to know her?” Peter wrung his hands, the bouncer’s eyes narrowing. He reached for the walkie-talkie hanging at his hip, talking into it. Deep inside the club, Peter could hear the

“Hey Steph, there’s a little guy and lady here to see you. Says they know you or something.” A chipper response was sent over the device and the bouncer shrugged and let them pass. “Just head straight, you’ll find a door that says VIP. Just say you’re with Steph to the guards.” They did just that, bypassing the guards at the door with ease, Peter’s Spidey Sense tingling strongly the entire time.

They entered the long hallway, and the door at the end opened, revealing a happy and smiling Stephanie Brown, Babs looming behind her with a gentle smile on her face as well. 

“You guys made it!” Seeing Harley, Stephanie’s smile became a bit sharper, before the smile dropped altogether. 

“Harley Quinn?” His friend’s grip on his arm tightened and he placed a hand on her’s to comfort her. Peter’s eyes softened and he took his arm out of her grip to hook it around her waist and pull into a one armed hug. 

“Yup! This is the one and only Harley Quinn. She’s been going through a hard time so I invited her.” Steph and Babs’ faces, once hardened and suspicious, softened as well, hearing that Peter was willing to vouch for her. 

“Of course, Pete,” said Barbara, her expression welcoming, “any friend of yours is a friend of ours.” Peter nodded, happy with the results and he could feed Harley relaxing a bit as well. They approached the door and Stephanie latched onto his other arm when he was close enough, giving him a goofy grin. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed in the room. 

“Peter!” Dick was suddenly right in front of him, also grinning like a maniac. 

‘A handsome maniac,’ Peter had to grudgingly admit. 

“Dick,” Peter greeted with a monotone voice. 

“Sweetheart.” Another figure joined their group, towering next to Dick. 

“Slade! You made it!” Slade nodded, a semblance of a happy expression on his while Dick pouted. 

“Why aren’t you glad to see me?” 

“Huh, I wonder why,” Peter deadpanned. Dick got the message. 

“Hey! I wasn’t the only one you know! He’s been giving you huge tips for weeks!” Dick pointed right at Slade, who was busy looking at Harley, tight against his side. 

“But he’s not that large of an asshole.” A deep and familiar voice snorted. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think they’re both raging assholes.” Dick turned his head and stuck out his tongue, and Peter leaned over to look at who it was. Unsurprisingly (and correct to his assumption), Jason Todd sat lounging on a couch with a book in his hands. 

‘Jane Eyre,’ he noted, noticing the cover. ‘Not bad.’ Across from him was Tim Drake, staring at him and Harley. The analyzing gaze made Peter uncomfortable, but he supposed that’s who Tim Drake was. An analyzing, calculated and cold man. At least, he must’ve been in this world. 

“Hey wait,” Jason said, his eyes also knowing, but now with eyes of lit fire and amusement. “Aren’t you that guy from the gym?” 

“Yeah? What of it?” Jason stood up, straightening to his full height. The Spidey Sense, while tingly strongly before, was on full blast alarm now and it took everything in Peter not to react. The large male stalked across the room, ending up on Dick’s other side, also looming over everyone. 

“You owe me a fight.” A feral grin crossed his face and Harley shrunk into Peter’s embrace. Peter tightened his arm and stared up defiantly at Jason Todd, anxiety high but also another emotion flitting around as well. Peter scowled. 

“I never agreed to anything nor do I owe you anything.” 

“C’mon, princess. Kids like you need to learn how to defend themselves. Besides, I’ll guarantee it’ll be fun.” Peter finally identified that emotion as enthusiasm. He had missed fighting and being able to use his powers. However, in a world where there weren't any superpowered humans, he doubted that it would be normal. He also needed to lay low in order to find a way home. ‘Can I even leave? Because of Harley?’ Peter glanced in her direction before returning his attention towards Jason. 

“Fun for who? You? Because I certainly wouldn’t have fun.” Jason must’ve picked up at least some habits from his brother, because he pouted, though it was like if a wolf or an equally scary predator pouted. It was quite weird. “Besides, I’d beat your ass quicker than you can say Charlotte Bronte.” Slade laughed out loud at this, Jason joining in. 

Peter knew that they were laughing because they didn’t think he had the chops but that was fine. They didn’t need to know anyways. Steph, Babs and Dick were laughing and there was a chuckle from Harley too. 

“I like this kid,” Jason said as he wiped a tear away from his eye, “he’s cute.” 

“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” Peter deadpanned. Another harsh laugh followed as Jason returned to his perch. Dick and Slade moved out of the way as Steph pulled Peter in the direction of a table, two other people Peter hadn’t noticed due to Slade’s large frame sitting down already. 

They were both focused on the papers that lay in front of them, though Peter could tell they were listening in and curious about the ruckus. Dick pulled out a chair for Peter and Slade for Harley, everyone in their little group sitting around them. Now that Slade was out of the way, Peter could clearly see who the two were. 

Bruce Wayne and Commissioner Jim Gordon. He knew that they were friends in the original comics, but that was about it. Harley slid down in her seat and Peter grabbed her hand, rubbing a finger over her knuckles. She smiled weakly at him, and he returned the sentiment. 

Unawares to them, the people around them stared at the action in jealousy. 

“So Peter,” Steph purred, smiling brightly, “after Harley here, am I your bestest friend?” Peter knew she was quick, but he didn’t think she was this quick. He smirked. 

“Of course, Steph. You and Babs.” The redhead snickered when she caught the betrayed look on Slade’s face. It was soon replaced with a sly expression however. Peter suddenly felt his left hand being picked up. His head snapped up to see Slade bringing it to his face, kissing the soft skin of the back of his hand and Peter blushed. Hard. 

“What about me, sweetheart?” Steph and Dick burst. 

“That’s cheating!” 

“He’s mine, you old geezer!” Steph launched herself across the table and mushed her face into the side of Peter’s, continually rubbing against him like a cat, causing surprised laughter to escape from Peter. Dick gasped. 

“Stephanie Brown!” He ran behind Peter and forced his arms around Peter’s neck, dislodging Steph’s face and pulled Peter back against his chest, rubbing the bottom of his chin against soft brown curls. 

‘Heaven,’ Dick thought dreamily, ‘my little heaven.’ A sudden pale hand pushed Dick’s head away from Peter’s, though he couldn’t go far, what with his arms locked around his neck. 

“No, he was mine first,” Harley pouted resting her head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter giggled and tried resting his head on her’s, but Dick wouldn’t allow it. 

“You gotta learn how to share!” Some more squabbling went on, Peter assuring everyone but Dick they were liked. No one noticed Bruce and Commissioner Gordan watching nor did anyone notice Jason motioning to Tim to sit on the couch he was on, before standing up. 

He silently approached behind Dick and pushed him out of the way, easily making him let go of the brunette. Peter, who barely had any time to react, was suddenly scooped up into a bridal hold, and he instinctively slid his arms around his captive’s neck, looking up at the face and seeing Jason. The older man said nothing, and walked back over to the couch where Tim was now sitting and sat down with Peter settled in the junction between his legs. Peter blinked before scowling. 

It was about as cute as a puppy growling, trying to look intimidating. 

‘Cute,’ Jason thought with amusement. 

“What are you doing?” Peter’s legs, which were thrown over Jason’s large thigh, were suddenly settled into Tim’s lap, pale arms moving over and pressing into the legs. 

“Wanted to see what the fuss was about,” Jason said while caressing the small of Peter’s back. Peter’s scowl deepened and everyone at the table migrated over the couch area. Harley flopped onto the couch he was on, right behind him and next to Jason Todd. 

“Well, there’s no fuss so let me go.” Jason hummed, pretending to think about it. 

“Yeah. No.” The older male picked up his book and began reading again, settling his chin over Peter’s locks like Dick did, with Peter’s ear to his heart, and arms on both sides of the brunette so he couldn’t leave. Peter huffed and tried lifting himself out of the hold, moving his legs as he did so. 

It seemed that both Jason and Tim were anticipating this, however, and worked in tandem as a seamless team to keep Peter right where he was. Jason’s arms tightened exponentially, and Tim increased pressure on Peter’s legs. He grunted, realizing that he would have to use his superstrength to get out of this if needed. These people were just as dangerous as Steph, Babs, Dick, and Slade, if not more. 

Peter was about to say something when the rustle of clothes and footsteps came over to where they all sat, Bruce Wayne first and Commissioner Gordan following. The Commissioner sat next to his daughter, pressing a kiss to the side of her head while Babs smiled and hugged her dad. Peter softened at the scene, some of his tenseness going away. Bruce Wayne sat in an armchair at the head in between the couches, exuding an air of power he doesn’t think even Mr. Stark had. 

“Hello there,” the timber of Bruce Wayne’s voice made it sound like a bedroom voice, deep and heady. Peter flushed slightly but paid attention to him. Out of anyone he’s ever met, Peter’s Spidey Sense never reacted to anyone quite like it did to Bruce Wayne. Peter shrunk back a bit into the arm behind his back, and he noticed that Bruce’s blue eyes tracked the movement. It was as if he tracked every single movement, twitch, or shift he made. It was nerve wracking. 

“Hello,” he replied shyly. 

“You must be Peter. Dick and Steph have told me a lot about you.” 

“Uh, all good things I hope?” The chest he rested upon rumbled with silent laughter. Bruce Wayne smirked. 

“Of course. My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before. I’m the owner of this establishment.” Peter furrowed his brows. He remembered reading somewhere that Bruce Wayne, in the original comics, had owned a technology firm, Wayne Enterprises. So what was this? 

“You own WE and this place?” Bruce nodded, hiding a smirk. Peter knew it was there. 

“And a few other ones like it. It gets kind of stressful but my family and I make it work.” Peter nodded, filling some information in. 

“I’m sure it does, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, call me Bruce.” Peter wrung his hands. 

“Uh…” Bruce raised an eyebrow. Peter glanced at Babs, Steph, and Dick, who all nodded. Peter gulped. “Okay then, uh, Bruce.” The head of the Wayne household smiled, a certain sharpness to it. 

“Anyway, how do you know my sons?” The conversation spiralled from there with people taking turns talking and sharing things. They laughed at Dick’s expense when he explained what had happened, him whining the entire time. 

Bruce sat back and watched as they all bickered and argued, but with no actual heat. It had been a long time since anyone around the household and its associates were this relaxed. And it all happened when one boy crossed paths with everyone. Even Jim, his old friend, was laughing along with some things. The softness of the atmosphere was nice. 

Until the sound of Tim’s groan permeated the area. 

“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong! Seriously!” Bruce raised an eyebrow as everything quieted around them. 

“This is why we pay people to get this kind of paperwork done for us, Tim.” Said man scowled at his adoptive father. 

“You know I don’t trust anyone else to do it but me, B.” Jason snickered. 

“And you’re suffering for it. But by all means, Replacement, suffer more. It’s fun to watch.” Tim sneered at Jason, turning his body to argue with his adoptive brother, revealing the papers in the meantime. Peter took one glance at it and knew exactly what was wrong. 

“You have the wrong exponent.” Everyone stopped in their tracks, staring at Peter. Tim blinked. 

“What?” Peter stared back and pointed at the paper. 

“You have the wrong exponent. There should be a negative here. It changes the whole situation if it’s a negative.” Everyone turned their attention to Tim, who changed what Peter had said and began recalculating. It was five minutes of silence later that Tim collapsed against the back of the couch in relief. 

“Finally. You,” Tim looked at Peter in reverence, “are an angel.” Jason hummed in agreement. 

“He sure does look like one.” He grinned like a shark when Peter looked up at him with wide eyes. Dick, curious to know, asked, 

“How’d you know that, Pete?” The brunette, pointedly ignoring Jason, shrugged. 

“I just do.” It was silent for a moment before Slade whistled. 

“Beautiful and smart. If I wasn’t in love before, I am now.” The whole of Peter’s face went red and he hid it in his hands, laughter and bickering resuming above him. 

Bruce relaxed in his chair, a twitch of a smile that was rarely ever shown on his lips. It really was nice. 

\-----

Harley, who had long explained the situation of her boyfriend to Steph who had prodded, left with a happy smile on her face with promises of a girl’s night, clinging to Peter’s arm. It was way past midnight when they left. 

By the time they had gotten home, Piper, who was being dog sat by one of their nicer neighbors, was sound asleep. Peter and Harley cooed at the pup. 

“You look so much like her,” the alabaster skinned girl giggled. Peter rolled his eyes playfully and the rest of the night was spent in a relaxed state. Truly, it was one of the best nights Peter’s had in a long time. 

\-----

A couple of days passed and Peter got around to finally purchasing dog gear for Piper. He tried to connect the leash to her collar, becoming fondly exasperated when she couldn’t stop chasing her tail to let him do it. Eventually, he just picked her up and connected it before heading out the door, informing Harley of their adventure on their way out. 

He didn’t stay to hear the reply. 

They walked a couple blocks to the park nearby. There weren't any incidents at first but apparently, when Piper gets excited, there is no stopping her. 

So when she suddenly tugged on her leash, Peter underestimated her strength and kept his grip loose, causing her to pull away from him and run around the park like hell was on her heels. 

“Shit! Piper!” He ran as fast as he could, trying to get her under control and failing miserably. It eventually got to the point where he nearly had her. She followed along a paved path and ran around the corner, Peter right on her tail when he crashed into a hard chest, obviously muscled and obviously male. 

The momentum of him caused him to bulldoze the guy over, and they fell, Peter landing on top of the man. It took a second for Peter to regain his senses. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He scrambled off the man and looked around, seeing Piper starting to disappear in the distance. “Shit! No! Piper!” He called in the hopes of her actually listening and coming back. Big surprise, it didn’t work. The man, sitting himself upright, motioned for the large black dog behind him. 

“Titus, go get that insolent puppy.” Obeying his master’s command, he jumped into action, running in the direction Piper was headed. Peter groaned and looked at the man, finding himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. 

“I’m so sorry, I was walking my dog when she got out of control and I had to chase her down and-” 

“Spare me your useless babbling.” Peter’s cheeks turned pink. “It does neither of us any good.” 

“Sorry. Again. I really am.” The man sniffed. 

“Yes, I heard you the first few times.” Peter stood up and reached down, offering a hand to the man. He sneered but took it anyway, Peter using his superstrength to pull him up. He looked mildly surprised. 

“You are strong, but you do not look it.” 

“Yeah, so I’ve been told. Look, I really am sorry. I can make it up to you, if you want. There’s a really nice coffee shop or something down the street. I can get you-” 

“There is no need. I have already eaten today.” The chestnut haired hoy deflated.

“Really?” 

And shit, if he didn’t look like a dejected puppy in Damian’s eyes. It was his ultimate weakness, his so-called hamartia. 

“But,” he paused, asking himself if he was really going to do this. Yes, he was. “I am quite thirsty at the moment. Perhaps you can buy me something at that coffee shop.” Peter beamed up at the tall stranger, internally noting with a bitter tone that he was even taller than Jason or Bruce was. He did look familiar though. Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly. 

‘Where have I seen hi-’ Peter’s thought was interrupted when the large black dog came up to them, holding Piper’s leash in his mouth, Piper following along. 

“Thank you so much for getting her for me.” The man nodded at his dog. 

“It is not me you should be thanking, but Titus.” 

“Is that his name? Well, thank you very much Titus.” The large dog came forward and Peter sank onto one knee and let Titus sniff his hand,  
scratching behind his ears when he licked Peter’s hand. Piper whined. 

“You are in big trouble when we get home, missy.” He held onto her leash tighter. “Anyway, my name’s Peter. Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter held out his hand. The stranger took it, stiffly shaking it. Peter giggled internally. 

“I’m Damian Wayne. It is nice to meet you too I suppose.” The brunette smiled. 

“Let’s get that coffee now, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating sooner! It's totally my fault but I didn't start coming up with a lot of inspiration for this chapter until now. 
> 
> Anyway, Peter has finally met Damian and we'll have them interact more in the next chapter. There will be more on the Marvel side of things and someone *cough*clown*cough* misbehaves. We'll see what the next chapter has in store, so I hope y'all have a nice day! Stay tuned and the next chapter will be up as soon as I can get it up! 
> 
> Thanks, 
> 
> ThePoppyPress

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave any comments or constructive criticism! I appreciate all of it!


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